Live and learn

This year more than usual is riding on my plant propagation. As part of an ongoing quest to publicize my book, The Sustainable-Enough Garden, I'm planning to participate in our local farmer's market, selling gift baskets for gardeners that contain six-packs of herbs and edible flowers, along with the book and other fun items. I'm starting more seeds indoors than usual, and I'm worrying about them more. If I can't produce the seedlings, then what?

Purple and green basil--will they be ready for market?

    I’m learning first hand that production growing is fraught with many pitfalls. What’s enough water, and what’s too much? Exactly when should I plant each variety to have little plants the right size by June 30, the first market date, and through the summer?

Tarragon cuttings are doing well (left), but only one of 24 seeds I planted germinated (right). Why?

Transitioning the seedlings outdoors to “harden off” will be an anxious experience with many questions regarding correct timing. This growing is like mothering, with all its uncertainty and need for constant vigilance.

    This week I came back from eight days on vacation away from my seedlings fearing heavy attrition. Would they have wilted and died without watering? I’d moved all the seedlings to the basement, figuring they’d need less water in a cool space where evaporation would be slower. 

     I followed the advice of one of my gardening heroines, Thalassa Cruso, for getting houseplants through times when no one’s at home to water. She recommends covering them with plastic sheeting to minimize evaporation. I adapted this for my seedlings by using some rigid clear plastic covers sized to fit over the seed trays. 

A clear plastic cover made for the seed tray is convenient

When I ran out of those, I cut open old dry-cleaning bags to drape over the little plants.

A repurposed clear plastic bag works too

    In the bottom of each tray, under the six-packs that hold the seedlings, I’d already placed a layer of capillary matting, absorbent synthetic fabric that gradually releases water to the pots.  I made sure to water the growing medium and soak the capillary matting before I left town.

Spongy fabric absorbs water and releases it gradually

    As soon as I got home, I pulled off the plastic to check on the little plants. Most of them were fine. I was surprised to find that the growing medium was still moist in many of the six-packs, and much of the matting was still wet. Moss or algae was growing on the surface of the growing mix in some of the pots. That showed how humid it had stayed inside the plastic enclosure, but it didn't seem to be doing any harm.  

    I’d managed to kill some cuttings I’d taken from a rosemary plant I brought indoors last fall. I’d left these uncovered because I thought they’d rot under the plastic, and I hadn’t set their six-pack on wet matting either. Unsurprisingly in retrospect, four of the six dried up, dropped their leaves and died.

News flash! Plants need water to survive

    Lots of questions remain. Clearly farming requires expertise and experience that I don’t have. Even if my farmer’s market project fails, I’m bound to learn a lot this year.

It's spring! Cornelian cherry (Cornus mas) blooming at last

Sex, drugs, and plant propagation

Which is better, sexual or asexual reproduction? It depends who’s doing the reproducing. This spring I’m making new plants both ways. Seeds are produced through sexual reproduction. Each seed has two parents with different genetic make-ups. That means each seed, and the plant it grows into, is a unique individual, like us. I’m growing a lot of my new plants from seed, including vegetables, herbs, and annual flowers.

Each borage and basil seedling is a genetically unique

    Asexual reproduction accounts for a lot of the perennials, trees and shrubs we buy. If you’re a breeder who wants to make sure your dogwood or azalea is exactly like its parent, you clone it. Unlike human tissues (so far), plant tissues have the ability to reproduce whole plants from parts of the parent plant.

A desirable rhododendron can be cloned infinitely

     Right now I’m growing cuttings from last year’s rosemary, bearberry (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi), and coleus. I’m hoping to do the same with tarragon and oregano I bought at the garden center. If these cuttings take root and grow, the plants they grow into will be genetically identical to the parent plant.

Cuttings from bearberry and coleus are clones

I’ve read that some named shrub varieties consist entirely of clones from one desirable plant. Many plants, but identical genes.

    People concerned about biodiversity have a problem with this system. In addition to encouraging us to grow native plants, they want us to foster genetic diversity among plant species. The reason is that a broader gene pool allows a species to adapt to changing environmental conditions. Some individuals in the population will develop greater resistance to heat, drought, flooding, and other challenges. As climate change speeds up changes plants face, they need to be ready to evolve in response.

    There’s an inherent tension between promoting biodiversity and maintaining desirable varieties. If you’re trying to grow a particular tomato, say ‘Brandywine,’ which is open pollinated (not a hybrid), you don’t want your ‘Brandywine’ plants fertilized by pollen from other tomato varieties. 

Tomato growers want to keep varieties distinct

     But if you’re just growing a patch of perennials, say native purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea), there’s no reason not to let them mix with nearby members of their species and create a genetically mixed population. In fact, your stand of coneflowers will be more likely to survive if it includes members with different genes that can tolerate varying conditions.

A genetically diverse coneflower population is adaptable

    Except for letting willing self-seeders do their thing, I haven’t propagated perennials from seed. When I want more, I may divide the plants or, as with rosemary, bearberry, and ivy, grow more from cuttings. If a snippet from the growing end of a plant is willing to send down roots, why not make more that way? Divisions and cuttings make clones, just as tissue cultures made by breeders from a few cells grow into clones of a newly-developed perennial. In future I want to learn to grow native perennials from seed so I can help maintain their genetic diversity.

Felix, a new garden helper visiting from New York

I’m off on a trip to the Southeast, hoping to experience spring flowers there and again at home when I return. See you in two weeks.

Fiat lux

With my old fluorescent grow lights getting dimmer month by month, I decided it was time to upgrade the lights I use for fostering my seedlings in the basement.

The more light they get, the stronger seedlings will be when it's time to move outside

    Although we may like the idea of starting seeds on a sunny windowsill, the sunlight that comes through a window isn’t really bright enough to grow strong seedlings. Even if I had an unobstructed south-facing window, which I don’t, plants couldn’t get more than 6,000 lux through the glass. In comparison, outdoor light can reach 120,000 lux in full sun.

Light through the window isn't strong

     As plants stand farther back from the window, available light drops off quickly to only 3,000 lux at one foot. Screens filter out light too, and short winter days reduce light exposure.

    Artificial light does more for seedlings that are destined to grow outdoors. My young plants will need 20,000 to 25,000 lux to grow robustly.

Shorter and chunkier is better

    For years I’ve used fluorescent lights for my seedlings. My first set-up was a cheap fluorescent shop light hung from a board held up by bricks. It did the job. Later I bought a four-shelf unit with two fluorescent tubes at each level. The lamps could be moved up and down, which was convenient for keeping them no more than six inches above the leaves—again, light levels drop off sharply with distance from the source. The bulbs didn’t generate heat; even leaves touching them came to no harm. I could use regular fluorescent tubes for these lamps or choose tubes that offer a color spectrum favored by growing plants.

    Over the years, I’ve had trouble maintaining these fluorescent fixtures. Replacing the bulbs and the starters that are needed for fluorescents turned out to be tricky. This winter I was down to one and a half working lamps.

    Meanwhile, for upstairs I upgraded to a T5 fluorescent, twice as intense as the T12s in those basement lights. I can appreciate the difference. The light looks brighter, and seedlings stay huskier under it.

T5 fluorescent under a windowsill

    Marijuana growers may opt for the even greater intensity of HID (high intensity discharge) bulbs, metal halide or high pressure sodium. This is the very bright light you’ll see in clandestine windowless growing areas in TV crime dramas. My friend Prudence urges me to try growing marijuana, but I’m not up to that level of indoor production yet. HIDs generate a lot of heat, which means you can’t let leaves get as close to them. 

    The next wave in grow lights is LEDs. The Gardeners Supply catalog offers LED light stands for around $250 to $300 per shelf. That’s more than I wanted to spend. Instead, I bought a heavy duty wire shelving unit and four LED shop lights—total cost $280. 

New LEDs. I hung some lamps at an angle to keep them closer to the foliage.

It was easy to hang the lamps from the shelves with the hardware provided. They certainly provide more light than the fluorescents, and they should last for my lifetime. Will their light spectrum work for my seedlings? Stay tuned.

So melt, already!

Thank goodness the latest nor’easter missed Massachusetts. There’s still snow on the ground, though. I’m itching to get outside and start spring gardening, but this snow is holding me up.

Snow still hanging around earlier this week

    Kevin Newman and his arborist team came by Wednesday to prune broken branches out of a white pine near the house. They’re working flat out after three storms this month that have brought down trees and countless limbs. Luckily they managed to squeeze in my small job at the end of the day. They ran the pine branches through the chipper and left a big pile of wood chips in the driveway, as I’d requested. 

Wood chips!

This should be just the right time for spreading those chips on paths and around trees and shrubs as mulch. But I can’t do it until the snow melts and the ground dries out a bit. I don’t want to compact the wet soil by tramping over it with a wheelbarrow.

    It’s also the right time to prune shrubs before the leaves show. 

Without leaves you can see what you're pruning

I did some pruning during a warm spell in February and filled up the garage with yard waste bags. I have new tools I’m dying to try, ratchet pruners and loppers. My wrist fracture has healed, but my grip strength hasn’t returned yet. These tools should allow me to make pruning cuts with less effort, if only I can get out there and try them. 

Adaptive pruning tools require less strength

    It’s traditional to plant peas around St. Patrick’s Day. I’d like to get the seeds into the ground by early April. They enjoy cool weather, as do lettuce and arugula. I want to sow a first row of greens soon. Let’s hope the snow on the vegetable bed melts within a couple of weeks.

    Last fall I optimistically planted a lot of spring-blooming bulbs in one large pot. I’d read you could set several levels of bulbs in the same container. There’s a layer of tulip bulbs at the bottom, with daffodils in the next layer and grape hyacinths above them. The pot has been in the cool basement, covered with wire screening to keep out hungry mice with a taste for tulip bulbs. Now hopeful sprouts are pushing at the screen. 

Potted bulbs need to get outside

I should be moving the pot outdoors, but I’m afraid the weather is too cold. I may have to move it inside and out as the temperature fluctuates. To bloom well, the plants should be outdoors.

    And what about all the seedlings that are sprouting under lights? Eventually I’ll need to move them too outside to get them used to sunlight. Will spring have arrived by then?

Borage and basil will need to move outside

    Outdoors the stalwart snowdrops and witch hazel flowers keep blooming. They have proteins in their cells that act as antifreeze. When the snow melts, the still-fresh flowers emerge unharmed. I wish snow had as little effect on me. 

Snowdrops unfazed by a foot of snow last week

 

Moisture, warmth, and voilà!

Wow! When I slipped seeds into plastic bags with damp paper towels this week, it was to check their viability. They’re not just viable, some of them are bursting with vitality. 

Cosmos sprouts pushing their way toward the light

    I took the opportunity of Tuesday’s nor’easter to start my first seeds of the year. Some of my seed packets were a year old or more, saved in the basement in a plastic box. I didn’t want to waste time and space by planting them in six-packs of potting mix like the newer seeds and then find out they’d lost their ability to germinate. Instead, I’d see whether they’d sprout on the paper towels. 

Were these calendula seeds as dead as they looked?

I expected that if they were going to germinate, it would take a week or two. I placed the sealed sandwich bags in a tray on the floor to be warmed by sub-floor heating.

    I glanced over on Thursday morning and was surprised to see one of the bags pushed upward by sprouting cosmos seeds. By the next day, another cosmos variety was showing green sprouts too, and tiny celosia seeds were pushing out pink roots. 

These celosias will fill a niche in the pollinator garden

It seemed as if every time I checked, more seeds had sprouted. Two days later, all the bags were showing some signs of life: zinnias, black-eyed Susans, bachelor’s buttons, even calendula, an edible flower I had poor luck with last year.

    The next step seemed a bit trickier than I’d expected. I’d read that I should pull the sprouts away from the paper towel with tweezers and plant them in potting mix. I set up my six-packs filled with Organic Mechanics Seed Starting Blend. Then I tried to separate a cosmos seedling from its towel. 

     I was afraid I was breaking off the growing tip of the root. That seemed like a bad idea, so in stubborn cases, I cut out a small section of paper towel around the little root and stuck the whole thing into the planting medium. I put the six-packs with their newly planted sprouts under the grow light with the seeds I’d planted on Tuesday and replaced the lid to keep the humidity in.

A humid environment for the young seedlings

    So far the sprouts seem to have survived the transition without trouble. I can see I’ll need to keep planting this week as more seeds germinate. I’m rapidly running out of space under the grow light in the kitchen, which is the brightest I have. March sunlight from the west-facing window  isn’t strong enough to give the seedlings a good start. 

Even sunlight on snow doesn't reflect enough lumens to grow stocky seedlings indoors

 
The fluorescent tubes set up in the basement aren’t bright enough either. Maybe I can find some inexpensive LED fixtures to expand my options.

    Meanwhile, several of the seed varieties I planted in six-packs of homemade potting mix have popped up too. Basil and alyssum were the first. 

Newborn basil

I’m using a heat mat under the seed flats, which probably helps. It warms the medium by 11 °F. Once the first leaves peek out, it’s time to turn off the heat and start opening the lid. Welcome to reality!

So far so good

 

Choosing the right plants for the right pollinators

As I think about planting this spring, flowers for pollinators are a high priority. But beyond choosing pollinator plants from lists for Northeast gardeners, how can I know which flowers will deliver the best value for these insects? By turning to Jessica Walliser, one of my garden heroines. Jessica recently posted a great article about types of pollinators and what they need.

Bumblebees like a spacious landing pad

    Come to think of it, all pollinators aren’t the same, so it’s not surprising that they need different things from flowers. I was eager to see how I was doing with the types of insects Jessica described.

    Bumblebees are big and heavy enough to pop open flowers to get at enclosed nectaries. That means they benefit from lupines, snapdragons, and many pea-type flowers, including my white redbud (Cercis canadensis f. alba). 

Redbuds' flower shape show they're in the pea family, Fabaceae

I do have some native lupines, and I enjoy snapdragons. The challenge will be to find some this year that aren’t treated with neonicotinoids. Jessica points out that spraying pesticides will harm pollinators, making your whole planting effort moot. Bumblebees also have long tongues that enable them to extract nectar from flowers with deep throats, such as my phlox, bee balm, and salvias.

Phlox 'David'

    Thousands of species of native bees (North America has 4,000 in all) are tiny insects that need plants with lots of small flowers. They like daisy flowers such as black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia species). 

Black-eyed Susans work for smaller bees

I’ve got lots of these popping up all over, thanks to their generous self-seeding. A daisy’s central disc is actually packed with many small flowers, each offering pollen for these little bees. Sunflowers and coreopsis provide the same architecture. 

A sunflower's central disc contains many tiny flowers

Small bees also like the tiny clusters of flowers sported by plants such as my goldenrods (Solidago species).

Goldenrod goes for quantity over size

    Native bees don’t build hives. They’re mostly solitary, often raising their young in holes in the ground or in hollow stems, which they may also shelter in during the winter. Last fall I followed Jessica’s advice and left flower stems standing. 

Don't just take it from me. New York's High Line leaves coneflowers standing too.

They’re looking kind of messy now, but I hope to see more pollinators this spring. I learned from this post that I could cut them to 15 inches high if I don’t want them flopping over. Some of the plants I grow that have hollow stems are purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea), raspberries, and ornamental grasses. 

    Pollinators need flowers blooming throughout the growing season. Witch hazel is offering some pollen now. Other early bloomers that will help in my yard include bugleweed (Ajuga species), catmint (Nepeta species), and shadbush (Amelanchier canadensis). At the end of the season, asters, goldenrods and sedums help keep the buffet open.

A monarch found this New England aster

    Jessica confirms something I learned recently. Double flowers don’t do anything for pollinators. That’s because in breeding for doubleness, the pollen-carrying stamens are converted into extra petals. Even if the insects could fight their way through to the flower’s center, there’s no nectar there for them to get. So when you’re confronted with dozens of coneflower cultivars, skip the double ones if you’re shopping to please pollinators.

These double coneflowers don't offer nectar or pollen

Best of 2017

I thought I’d take this still wintry week to review some of my favorite plants of 2017. These are plants I love for their flowers, their pretty foliage, or their shape or texture. They’re easy to grow. Some but not all are native plants with the added advantage of providing food and shelter for native animals, especially insects.

     Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) is an early bloomer, a native plant classified as a spring ephemeral. It first sends up elegant curled gray-green irregularly indented leaves. 

Bloodroot unfurling in April

The glowing white flowers last for two weeks if the weather stays cool. Bloodroot confirms that spring is really coming.

     White bleeding heart (Dicentra [now Lamprocapnos] spectabilis ‘Alba’, flowering soon after bloodroot, is one of my long-time favorites. I bought some from White Flower Farm years ago as a concession to gardening in shade. I find the flowers unfailingly beautiful. 

White bleeding heart in May

It’s a self-seeder that pops up in shady spots and forms new colonies. If there are more seedlings than I want to keep, I pot them and give them away. There are native bleeding hearts, but this isn’t one of them.

     For summer, there’s borage (Borago officinalis). This persistent self-seeder, originally from Europe, has furry leaves and azure blue flowers. 

Borage volunteering in the vegetable garden

I first planted it in my vegetable bed because it was listed as a beneficial plant. It’s come up every year since. Its specific epithet officinalis indicates that it was once used by apothecaries as a medicine. Borage is popular with pollinators, easy and vigorous but not pushy.

     Recently I’ve been very pleased with parsley, dill and fennel I’ve planted for pollinators. The only one we eat much of is the parsley, but all three grow tall fronds and panicles of flowers that bees and other insects like. I think they look romantic in a corner of the vegetable bed.

Fennel flowers for pollinators

     Among shrubs, one of my all-time favorites is doublefile viburnum (Viburnum plicatum f. tomentosum ‘Mariesii’). It’s not a native, but May wouldn’t be the same without it. The graceful white flowers open along the tops of horizontal branches.

Doublefile viburnum in May

     I think our native highbush blueberries (Vaccinium corymbosum) are underused as ornamental plants. They could easily take the place of privet, a nonnative that turns out to be invasive. I’ve got several blueberry shrubs mixed into shady beds. The spring flowers are pretty, the berries are popular with birds, and the red fall foliage is very handsome. 

Blueberries' fall color

I’m going to prune them this spring in hopes they can grow more densely in areas where I’ve let in more light.

     One of my favorite trees is white pine (Pinus strobus), a New England native that makes a feathery background for several of my garden prospects. 

White pine in the background

White pines lose limbs to heavy winds and heavy snow. Fortunately they just keep growing; the gaps are soon filled in.

     Most of these favorites aren’t new in my garden. They’ve stood the test of time. It’ll be interesting to see whether new additions will prove to be even better garden citizens.

A March favorite, witch hazel